Page 24 of Forbidden Romeo

“Perhaps a game?” I reply, giving him a sarcastic look.

“Fine,” Jack says, looking more than a little bemused. “I’m going to guess something about you, and you have to tell me if it’s true or not.”

I consider the pros and cons of this, balancing my “no personal details” plan against my intrigue with the man in front of me. “Then I get to guess about you?”

“Why not?”

“All right,” I concede. “Hit me.”

He examines me a little before replying. “You work in a high-pressure environment, which means sometimes you forget or don’t have time to eat.”

My surprise must be evident on my face, because Jack begins to chuckle.

“Drink,” he instructs.

“So this is a drinking game now?”

“May as well make this interesting.”

I take a sip of wine without breaking disgruntled eye contact. “Fine. My turn.”

I look him up and down. His leather jacket is thrown carelessly across the back of his chair, revealing a shirt that (on closer inspection) is probably worth more than my rent. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and my eyes hone in on the classic timepiece on his wrist.

“Your family is old money,” I conclude.

He grins at me and takes a sip of wine. “Very good.”

“You’re not that hard to read,” I tease.

“You’re new to New York,” he counters.

I open my mouth to disagree but then remember I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile. I take a sip. “How did you know?”

“You looked like a kid on Christmas when you were looking out that window.”

I glance back at it again and sigh a little. “It’s a beautiful view.”

“Hmm…” Jack replies in agreement. Only when I turn back to him, he’s looking straight at me.

I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks. It’s so corny. Logically, I know it is. So why do I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest?

“Your turn,” Jack reminds me, nudging my leg a little with his hand.

The feeling sends shivers of delight up my spine, and I wrack my brain to try and distract myself. I end up looking directly at his face, really looking at it.

His dark hair sweeps perfectly away from his face, fading down the sides of his head. Clean-shaven, but a shadow forming across his strong jawline that’s slightly uneven on one side, making him look like he’s smirking even when he’s not. And his eyes… Dear God. Framed by thick brows and a scattering of near-invisible scars, they’re hypnotic. I could get lost in his hazel eyes for hours.

“I’d say military service, but… something tells me you don’t have the discipline.”

Jack barks a laugh at that. “I’m disciplined when it counts.”

I refuse to let the mischievous sparkle in his eye distract me, but when his hand touches my thigh again, I can’t help but falter.

“Um… I was thinking maybe some kind of… sport?” I finish lamely.

Jack strokes my leg encouragingly. “Sport?”

“Like a contact sport.”

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